Third Wheels

Elara adjusted her scarf against the brisk Parisian breeze, her hair tucked neatly under a beret that Marisol had mockingly referred to as her "artist phase." The day off from filming was a rare treat, and she had been looking forward to exploring the city.

At least, she thought she had.

Her excitement dampened somewhat when she noticed the way Marisol and Clémence exchanged glances as they strolled down the cobbled streets. The two of them walked side by side, their shoulders brushing as they leaned in to share private jokes. Elara trailed behind them, sipping her coffee and wondering when exactly she had signed up to be a third wheel on this date.

Not that it was an official date Marisol had insisted it wasn't.

"It's just a casual outing," Marisol had said over breakfast, her tone too casual to be believable. "Clémence and I happen to be free, and you're in Paris, so why not join us?"

In hindsight, Elara should have declined.